Interrupted
by Byakuzee
Summary: In which Kirigiri is unusually frustrated, and Naegi is unusually frustrating. Post DR/SDR2. Oneshot. Naegiri.


First time writing for this fandom but I do hope it's decent enough. It's bound to be a bit OOC but hopefully I'll get the hang of it with time.

* * *

**Interrupted**

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It was a known fact that the survivors of Hope's Peak had the most filled schedule in the Future Foundation. So it wasn't a surprise that they didn't have time for themselves, even the ones who recently became couples like her and Naegi.

Still, Kirigiri felt guilty about it; getting called by the higher-ups just when she was about to kiss him, and then not being able to return home until the late hours of night only to see him sleeping on the couch because he was waiting for her.

They didn't have quality time together for what felt like eons, and, even though Naegi was his usual sweet and patient self about it, she was undeniably frustrated — the one time Togami noted how she stared longingly after Naegi's trail proved that.

And then Naegi just had to make it worse.

It was early in the morning and she was dressing up for another exhausting day at work. Just when she was about to wear her gloves, warm hands stopped her and she looked up to see Naegi smiling sweetly at her.

"Those gloves of yours were getting kinda worn-out, so I bought you a new pair," he explained, and in an instant, her hands were covered by silky yet firm light-purple gloves, comfortable and fit; a proof of how carefully picked they were.

She was about to thank him — with an embrace or a kiss or more — when he gathered her hands and placed a soft kiss on them.

Kirigiri's eyes widened a bit and her breath hitched, for that was a gesture she knew very well what its meaning was.

That was the kiss when he wanted to test how her new gloves would feel against his lips, the kiss he placed when he was about to take them off because he wanted to feel her own hands against_ him_.

Oh, how she was perfectly willing to do that. How she was willing to do _more_ than that.

Their eyes dropped and their breaths mingled, wanting to make what they were thinking of at that moment into reality.

But her phone rang and she let out an irritated sigh, Naegi looking utterly flustered and chuckling sheepishly as he pulled away from her, deciding to get ready for work now that the mood was trashed.

Kirigiri wasn't one to believe in conspiracy theories — that was Hagakure's department — but she couldn't help but to think that someone out there was hellbent on cockblocking her.

* * *

She was focusing her attention on her laptop's screen, fixing her long fringe in a huff every now and then, when Naegi came bringing coffee to her.

They talked for a while about some of the cases they were getting, but then Naegi noticed how she was trying to fix her fringe that just kept getting loose, covering her eyes along with that.

"You should cut it if it's annoying you that much," he noted as he walked behind her to fix it so it wouldn't get in the way of her work.

"I know, I just keep forgetting about doing that," she replied, focusing on the laptop screen once again.

Naegi, in one simple move, smoothed her hair away from her neck and kissed it firmly before he pulled back and tied her hair in a classic bun.

And as expected, he didn't stay long enough for her to inquire about why he was acting so bold, so unlike himself, for Asahina and Fukawa called him out to see something.

She swore she saw him wink at her before he left.

* * *

She didn't care if they were still at work, or if someone was going to walk in on them; the moment Naegi entered the broom-closet, she dragged him by his tie and kissed him deeply, the way she wanted to for weeks.

"You're going to face the consequences of your actions, _Makoto_," she said as she placed feather kisses on his jawline down to his throat.

"I was depending on that, actually," he replied, breathless and head leaning back to allow her more access.

When their phones rang, they simply turned them off.

* * *

End.


End file.
